Green Eyes
by WeatherWatch
Summary: Those green eyes are so familiar. -GenFic-


**Disclaimer: I gain nothing but satisfaction. This is a piece of fan-fiction, and all recognisable ideas, features etc. belong to their respective owners. Also, it's a very tiny snippet of a possible, though unlikely, timeline.**

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><p>"<strong>green eyes"<strong>_  
><em>i hope you understand  
>that green eyes<br>yeah the spotlight, shines upon you  
>( <em>green eyes <em>; _coldplay _)

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><p>Dr Jean Granger wrapped her daughter up in a hug, glad to have her home for the summer. The train had arrived perfectly on time at King's Cross Station (exactly as Professor McGonagall had informed the Grangers it would, all those months ago when they'd first been introduced to magic) and Hermione had come flying out of the compartment with an enormous smile, leaving a rag-tag group of children in her wake.<p>

Most of them sported flaming red hair and freckles, but one had dark hair and glasses – the Weasleys, Jean had guessed correctly, recalling her daughter's letters over the school year, and Harry Potter, she presumed. She was proved right on that count as a woman with equally red hair joined the fray.

"Boys! Harry! How are you all? What's all this about fifty points for chess that Percy owl'd me about?" she cried warmly as she was enveloped by her sons, all of whom now stood taller than her – Ron had certainly grown over the last few months.

As they all burst out with their respective stories, the Grangers split a little way away from them.

"Well? How was your first year?" Jean demanded of her beaming daughter.

"Oh, it was wonderful! You won't believe all the things I've learnt, and we had the most amazing adventure – I'll tell you about it when we get home," Hermione gushed, her eyes alight.

"And you, Harry?"

The boy jumped, startled at being noticed. He'd been hovering near the Grangers after receiving Mrs Weasley's motherly hug, unsure of his place in the overt mothering underway. Gazing up at his friend's parent he nodded. "It was interesting," he said, offering her a wry smile. "I learned quite a lot, too. Probably not as much as Hermione, though. That'd be impossible."

Jean praised him adequately but felt a strange sense of recognition as she looked into those remarkable emerald eyes. She was almost certain that she'd seen them somewhere before – on someone else's face. She shook off the feeling, engaging in idle chit-chat with the children while they awaited Harry's family - and a rum bunch they were when they finally turned up, she couldn't help but feel!

His cousin, huge and walrus-like, was modelled exactly on his father – Harry's uncle even sported the appropriate moustache, making the resemblance even more striking – while his aunt was one of the most sour people Jean had ever seen (and that was saying a lot considering the profession she was in). Mrs Dursley was as skinny as a bean (and about as sympathetic, by the look of it), with a snobbish disposition and what appeared to be an unfortunate fondness for salmon coloured clothing.

She was also very familiar.

Leaving the poor boy to his extended family, the Grangers dispersed, Hermione promising to write, and the boys mumbling that they'd try. On the drive home, Jean pondered the strange recognition she'd felt with Harry and his aunt, all the while listening to Hermione's running commentary of her first year at Hogwarts, the dialogue filled with explanations about magic and all that came with it as well as small descriptions of all the people she now knew in the Wizarding world.

It wasn't until Hermione, in the midst of a story, casually named Harry's 'Aunt Petunia' that her mother realised the source of the green eyes' familiarity.

She'd seen them before – on a girl who must have been his mother.

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><p>Jean had only been in the first few months of her dentistry apprenticeship but she remembered the appointment clearly; a lovely lady with greying, copper-coloured hair had brought her two daughters, aged twenty-one and eighteen, for a check-up.<p>

The eldest, an excruciatingly thin, dark haired girl, had worn a look of reluctant compliance, but the younger, vibrant and copper-haired like her mother, was all conciliation. She'd been very bubbly, and full of chat – spoken endlessly of all manner of things, including her upcoming wedding to a young man who, if all could be believed, was a sporting hero, a gentleman, a comedian, a mischief-maker and a loyal friend.

Jean had listened to all of it, but found herself caught like a deer in headlights when the younger girl turned her face towards her, in high spirits and absolutely guileless. Her eyes had been a startling green, more emerald than hazel, with a brightness that suggested intelligence and an indisputable liveliness.

Recovering herself, Jean had replied, "He sounds lovely."

"He is," the girl had admitted.

"_He's a freak_," her sister had breathed. "_Just like _LovelyLily_._" Her mother had hissed at 'Petunia' to shush, but Lily had heard, and though her expression had not changed, her eyes had dimmed a little.

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><p><em>Lily<em>, Jean mused, trying to recall a last name - it might have been Everard, or Evans maybe? Still, it had to have been Harry's mother. Those eyes weren't what one could ever call common, not by any stretch of the word.

She'd keep an eye on the young Harry Potter when she could, and if Hermione's friendship with him continued throughout their schooling she had no doubt that she'd be seeing and hearing of him fairly often.

"-and then Harry won us sixty points for showing extreme courage in the face of adversity and we won the House Cup!"

Yes, Jean thought with a private grin, she'd be hearing of the boy quite a lot.

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><p><strong>End.<strong>

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